


What Have You Done?

by cuddlepuss



Category: Frank Iero - Fandom, Gerard Way - Fandom, MCR - Fandom, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Drug Abuse (mentioned), Gang Rape, M/M, Physical Abuse, Sexual Abuse, Torture, repentence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-04
Updated: 2014-06-04
Packaged: 2018-02-03 10:34:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1741565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cuddlepuss/pseuds/cuddlepuss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A sordid tale of abuse and torture by a drugged partner and his gang.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Have You Done?

**Author's Note:**

> This little treasure appeared fully formed in my head one night as I tried, and failed, to sleep. The only way I could get it out of my head was to write it down.
> 
> I loathe everything about it, and don't even know where it came from, but I pout it here with the warning that if you have a sensitive nature DO NOT READ ANY FURTHER!

I closed my eyes, and leant forwards, a smile playing over  
my lips as his breath rolled over my face, bringing with it the scent  
of coffee, cigarettes and him. Easing back again, and opening my eyes,  
I said "Sweetheart? I can smell cigarettes on your breath, you said you  
were going to quit."

A sneer spread across your face as you drew your hand back and   
slapped, hard, across the face, my head snapping sideways with the  
impact. "I thought you were going to quit. God you can be such  
a whiny bitch sometimes, did anyone every tell you that?"

Tears glistening now in eyes that had moments before been drenched  
in love, I look into your eyes and saw a sadly familiar glassy, unfocused  
look in them. You were stoned, again, just days after promising you were  
clean. I knew what was coming next, or thought I did.

I took a deep breath, before, with a snort of effort, you launched   
another roundhouse punch, direct at my head, it hit my nose square on, it  
exploded with blood, I could feel the bitter, coppery taste in my mouth,   
before you hit me again, and I knew no more.

***************************************************************************

When I came to, later, I knew something was wrong. I could feel cold   
air on my bare skin, which meant my clothes had been stripped from me, and   
I was no longer in our bedroom. I couldn't see through the blindfold that   
was tied too tight around my head. I could scarcely breath through the tape  
that had been stuck over my mouth, too close to my nose.

I was stood on tip toes, arms hyper extended and manacled into place   
holding me, suspended, in place. My legs, also, were tethered, to either  
side of me, stretching my ass apart, my cock hanging over my balls, nothing   
hidden.

The air was musty, dank, as if it wasn't aired properly, and there  
was dry rot in the woodwork. I flinched when I heard a beloved voice, made  
harsh and unfeeling by the drugs coursing through your bloodstream.

"So, you finally woke up. Just in time, we were about to get the  
party started, weren't we boys?" A round of lewd, evil laughs did nothing  
to reasure me, and I counted at least five other voices in the room with us.

I could feel my stomach drop into my feet as I heard clothes being ripped   
off and drunken, ribald humour as what felt like countless hands reached out  
to me.

Blindfolded, gagged, and tethered, I could do nothing but suffer as the   
cruelty began. In my bound, naked state, I couldn't defend myself from the   
vicious beating that was being inflicted on me. One cock was forced up my   
unprepared ass as a mouth closed round my dick, the mouth's owner evidently   
getting off on chewing on my flaccid dick, almost biting the head off as his   
whole body spasmed with his release.

The one up my ass, forcing me back and forth as he thrust into my asshole,   
pounding in until he, too, spilt his load. In the mean time, one had bent me   
over, ripped off the tape from my mouth, and forced his manhood into my mouth,   
violently forcing me to accept this   
violation of my every orifice. When a second, larger cock forced it's way up   
my ass, I instinctively bit down. Yelling in pain and rage, the man took his   
prick out of my mouth, and began thumping my face, like he was kneeding bread   
dough. With one pummelling away at my face , the one the man behind me came up   
my ass and withdrew, slapping my arse cheeks as he did.

This carried on for what seemed like day's, but in reality was just a few   
hours. when, laughing and joking, I heard them all getting dressed and leaving   
again. Slumping dejectedly from my manacles, I just hung there, wishing for   
death. What was there left to live for?

"Frank? Frank, can you hear me? Can you answer me? Frank, what have   
I done to you? Those fucking drugs! I... I... I'm sorry Frank. I'll .. I'll   
get you down, don't fret. I'll be right back." 

 

*********************************************************************************

When he came back, he lowered me onto legs too shaky to support me, and   
had to carry me, not that I wanted to be anywhere near him, he did this to me -   
he caused this, now I had to rely on him in my weakened state? I hated him with   
as much of a passion as I hated my own body.

Wrapping me in a soft robe, he carried me up a short set of stairs to the   
back door of our home, I recognised the smells of home - THAT WAS HIS 'ART STUDIO?'   
The fuck? As he took me into   
our bedroom, towards the bed where it had all started, I began to tremble, crying   
silently into the blindfold I still wore. He laid me on the bed, and carefully  
removed the blindfold from my eyes, making me blink and grimace as light flooded  
my darked eyes.

Looking blankly around, as tears filled my eyes, and spilt down over my split and   
bruised skin, to drip of the end of my chin. Gerard, his eyes sodden with tears too,  
wiped the tears from my eyes, then fetched in a bowl of warm water and the first aid  
kit from our bathroom. 

When he reached out to wash the blood from my face, I couldn't help it, I flinched   
away, hurting myself physically, and making Gerard look sick that I couldn't stand his  
touch anymore. Swallowing hard, and looking into my eyes, Gerard reached out a hand   
towards me again, again I flinched away.

Going whiter than a sheet, his face lost every vestige of colour, as, with a sigh,  
my eyes rolling, I tumble sideway off the bed, gushing blood from my arse as I land on   
the floor. I knew no more.

***************************************************************************************

When I next opened my eyes, I was laid on a hard, uncomfortable bed, in a plain white  
room, with stiff, starchy sheets and rough blankets over me. A sound off to the side   
attracted my attention, and I turned my very sore neck to see who was there.

It was Gerard, but a Gerard like I'd never seen him before. Eyes red and swollen, nose  
shining scarlet, face drawn and pale, he looked more like the cancer patient from the black   
parade than he did my Gerard. What was the matter with him? And why was I here? Where was   
here? Why did I hurt so much? Closing my eyes again, I listened to what was being said.

"MR WAY! I told you, with the degree of injuries and bloodloss Mr Iero suffered it's a   
miracle he lived long enough to make it to the hospital, never mind coming round again.   
How he survived a gang attack like that is beyond me. Of the ten on the local books recently,  
he's the first one to live more than twelve hours after. Now settle down, sit down, and look   
down."

At this last, Gerard looked down, toward the floor where he stood near the bed, but not   
near enough. I stretched out my arm as far as I could towards him, the Doctor had noticed,   
and drawn Gerards attention to it, and he gently took my hand in his, disbelief turning to relief  
on his pinched, pale face.

 

It took a week for me to recover enough to go home, a week during which Gerard never left   
my side once. He went cold turkey on both cigarettes and drugs, accepted councelling for his  
anger management issues, and found us a new place to live, away from his old haunts and all  
the temptations there.

When it was time to leave hospital, he brought Flowers with him, my favourite red roses,  
and a puppy, wearing a little nurses outfit. Going to our new home, his thoughtfulness didn't  
stop there, it had two bedrooms. If I didn't feel confident sharing with him, I could have one  
of my own. Taking a deep breath, and holding his hand, I cautiously lead the way into the master  
suite, and sat with him on the bed. Looking into his eyes, I said "I love you Gerard Arther Way,   
but if you touch drugs again, I'm going to see to it that it's the last thing you do ever touch.  
Now come here and hold me."

 

 

THE END


End file.
